


Caged Birds Can't Sing

by Souliebird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Delusions, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Prequel, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:38:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souliebird/pseuds/Souliebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce had never thought as Tim as small before. Physically, he was of a shorter and slimmer nature than his adopted brothers, but it had never been of any hindrance to him. Tim's personality, intelligence, and skills more than made up for his mere five foot five stature and hundred and a quarter weight. Anyone who dared to underestimate him always paid the costs. But now, as Bruce leaned against the door frame to the library and waited for Leslie Thompkins to arrive, 'small' was the only word that truly seemed to fit Tim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged Birds Can't Sing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel/companion piece to a series I had planned to create a while ago, but lost my muse. I had wanted to post it after I had finished the first part of the series, Caged Birds Don't Sing, but I ended up taking it down to massively edit it. I figured I might as well post it (after finding it while looking through my files), in hopes of maybe finding my muse again and finishing up the first proper part of the series.

Bruce had never thought as Tim as small before. Physically, he was of a shorter and slimmer nature than his adopted brothers, but it had never been of any hindrance to him. Tim's personality, intelligence, and skills more than made up for his mere five foot five stature and hundred and a quarter weight. Anyone who dared to underestimate him always paid the costs. But now, as Bruce leaned against the door frame to the library and waited for Leslie Thompkins to arrive, 'small' was the only word that truly seemed to fit Tim. 

Tim was curled up in one of the high backed chairs, with his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his legs. His face was hidden from view, but from the way Tim was twitching his fingers, Bruce was sure the boy was mumbling to himself...or whatever he thought he saw. His clothes hung loosely around his frame, hiding the fact Tim had not only lost weight, but muscle mass. The only bit of far too pale skin that was showing was the back of his neck and his finger tips; Dick had discovered that making Tim wear fingerless gloves kept him from scratching at the bandages that were wrapped around his wrists. 

Seeing Tim like this made Bruce's stomach tight; it was his fault his son had been so completely broken. Tim had been kidnapped because he was Bruce's son and because he was an integral part of Wayne Enterprises, not because he was Red Robin. Bruce was sure the people who was taken Tim hadn't even known who his alter ego was. They had just wanted to hold him for ransom, but everything had gone so utterly wrong. The kidnappers had been killed before they could make their demands, leaving Tim trapped in a concrete cell half a world away from Gotham. Tim had only survived because the kidnappers had hired some deranged woman to feed him once a day and she had kept doing so long after the money had stopped coming, for who knew what reason. Almost five and a half months Tim stayed in his hell, completely devoid of any human contact, save for a tray of food pushed through a hole. Bruce could not blame him for losing his grip on reality.

Bruce just wished that he could say he had been the one to find Tim. Hell, he would have settled for some one in the Family, or even some one Bruce even moderately liked, anyone other than Ra's al Ghul. But, Ra's had been the one to find Tim and, for some reason Bruce wasn't actually sure of, had returned Tim to his family. 

Bruce would never forget the sight of Tim staring at him with such intense fear in his eyes and asking Ra's in a mumbled voice if Bruce was real or not. Bruce's heart had broken at the question and it had taken all of his control to not wrap his arms protectively around his son. 

Tim not believing Bruce, or anyone, was real had become a sad day to day occurrence. Some days, Tim was completely convinced that he had never left the cell he had been locked in and Tim had so many panic attacks Bruce had lost count. Try as they might, nothing seemed to help Tim. Every step forward in recovery he took, he would take two steps back; when things finally seemed to be getting better, everything would crash and burn so spectacularly and Bruce knew that could not happen again. Tim's last crash had started with him attempting to take up his Red Robin mantle again and ended with Stephanie finding him on the floor of a warehouse with his wrists slit open. 

Bruce finally accepted, then, that what Tim was going through could not be glared or ignored into submission. Bruce knew he was not the best at dealing with psychological trauma and Tim needed help he could not provide. Tim's sanity and well being was far more important than Bruce's pride, so he had called in the only person he could trust Tim's mind with. 

The floorboards in the hallway creaked and Tim's head jerked up. He wrinkled his brows at Bruce and the man knew Tim was attempting to determine if he was really there. Tim had never actually admitted to having hallucinations, but they had all walked in on him talking to people that weren't there on more than one occasion. It had become very obvious very quickly Tim's extended isolation had caused him to see and hear things that were not real. It had taken Bruce longer than he would have liked to admit for him to realize that Tim was very aware he had a thin grasp on reality. That was the part that frightened Bruce the most; that Tim knew his mind was deceiving him but he still gave into it. At times, it seemed like Tim preferred his illusions to the truth. 

Tim's face relaxed as he came to his conclusions. His eyes went from slightly panicked and animalistic to dull and glassy, which made Bruce feel relieved and guilty. He had learned the hard way, more than once, that when Tim stayed panicked, it got bad for everyone. He had the broken rib and chipped tooth to prove it. Bruce down right refused to sedate or knock out Tim when he got violent; either Tim would wear himself out or would realize what he was doing and go into an apologetic frenzy. Leslie's first impression of the situation did not need to be either of those. 

“How is he?” 

Bruce took his eyes off of Tim to glance at Jason. Tim had developed a strange rotation of either wanting to always be at Jason's side or not being able to even be in the same room as him. As far as Bruce could tell, they were in the latter part of the pattern. Bruce could not pinpoint what was happening between his sons, but he knew when Jason was present, Tim seemed to have a firmer handle on what was going on around him. Jason had been the one to discover Tim had been hurting himself and it had forged some kind of strange relationship between them. Bruce never would have imagined himself feeling grateful that he, Jason, and Dick usually ended up having shouting matches almost every night, but he was; it meant that Jason was in fact there. 

“He agreed to talk with her.” 

“He actually said that?” 

Bruce turned his attention back to Tim, who was picking at the cuff of his sleeve. “I think his exact words were something along the lines of 'I don't have a choice, do I?'” 

“Does he?” Bruce side eyed Jason and the man sighed. “Well, if Dick hadn't destroyed the pool, I'd still be betting on he's going to tell her exactly what she wants to hear from him so he doesn't have to talk to her again.”

“You shouldn't be gambling about his recovery.” 

“Tim thought it was hilarious.” Bruce glared at him.

“You are giving him ideas.” Jason shrugged.

“Oh, please, you know as well as I do that everything that was on that board has a serious possibility of happening. There is a reason bringing in a shrink was not your first thought, even when you found out he was burning himself with water. Even half out of his mind, Tim can play them like a freaking piano.” Bruce turned to fully face Jason, angry that he was right. Having Leslie talk to Tim was very low on the list of things Bruce wanted to do, but he had to have faith that it would help. It was one of their last resorts.

“Tim wants to get better.”

“He also wants to take a short drop with a sudden stop, if you know what I mean, it just depends on what time of day it is.”

“Jason.” There was more than a warning to Bruce's tone. He would physically remove Jason from the Manor if he had to. Nothing could interfere with this attempt at a therapy session. Jason crossed his arms and glared.

“Look, I want him to get the help he needs, but we need to accept things might not turn out how we want them to. We can't just pretend he isn't seriously considering ripping out his stitches with his teeth when no one is watching. That isn't helping anyone, least of all Tim, and it's just going to hurt us more when he actually tries it.”

“Well, that certainly isn't a pleasant image.” Bruce and Jason turned to see Doctor Thompkins turn the corner and make her way to the entrance of the library.

“I'm just telling it how it is, Doc.”

“I'm sure you are, Jason, but I'd like to go in there without any assumptions, and down to business, I'm going to have to say no to your request to sit in on the session, Bruce.”

“Lesl-”

“No. He hasn't told you anything, and if you are there, he won't tell me, either. He needs to know I won't go tattling to you the moment he says something. Confidentiality is key, despite what you may believe.” The doctor put her hands on her hips and gave Bruce a level stare. He sighed. His methods had not been working...perhaps her's would.

“Fine.” 

Doctor Thompkins breezed past Bruce and Jason, turned once she entered the library, and closed the doors in their faces. 

“You better hope Dick placed the winning bet.” Jason growled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I thought Dick destroyed the pool.” Jason shrugged, then turned to walk off.

“He did, but he still bet Tim would be having a good day and actually tell her the truth.”


End file.
